Nothing Compares
by Moonlightchic18
Summary: I should be happy that I am free. I can now flirt with whomever I want, and do whatever I choose. And yet I still cry myself to sleep at night. I chalk my tears up to loneliness, but the fact of the matter is simple. I’m in love with Fred.


"_It's been seven hours and fifteen days…_" the dusty muggle radio crooned in the abandoned classroom. I sat with my knees pressed to my chest as I listened to the tape cassette repeat the same song I'd heard daily for the past months.

"Since you took your love away from me." I finished softly before standing and shutting off the radio. The lone window in the room did nothing to prevent the draft from the impending snow storm outside.

Fred Weasley. He was the sole reason for my predicament. Because of Fred Weasley I lost my friends, my love, and my life.

How does it feel to be madly in love with someone, only to have them ripped away from you in the blink of an eye? I never thought that I would become so close to a man that he would be able to hurt me. I used to scorn the women who would become a pile of nothing after rejection. I was wrong.

I gave Fred my virginity the night of the Yule ball.

We were both slightly drunk from the bottle of Firewhiskey he snuck in during the early portion of the night. As the night went on, our friendly dancing became more sexual as our bodies pressed closer together. I felt his body reacting to the closeness and my body responded.

Minutes later we were in an empty classroom, our clothes scattered about the room as the result of a frenzy of passion and lust.

Needless to say, we became a couple shortly afterwards.

I caught Fred fucking another girl a day before he and George left. I walked in the common room during the middle of the night to find him thrusting into a Gryffindor seventh year like the world was going to end.

He winked. The bastard fucking looked at me over her shoulder and winked. I just stood there, frozen in place, as his thrusts grew harder and faster.

I can still hear her moans.

They knew he was cheating on me. Alicia, Katie, Lee, and especially George. They claimed that they didn't want to hurt me, but the damage was done. I haven't spoken to my former best friends since that night.

I didn't see Fred and George leave. Rumor has it that there was a spectacular show, but I was too busy wallowing in self-pity in the library to care. Even Hermione, who rarely leaves the confines of the library, left to see this little production.

You know your social life is in ruin when Hermione has more of a life than you.

I should be happy that I am free. I can now flirt with whomever I want, and do whatever I choose. And yet I still cry myself to sleep at night. I chalk my tears up to loneliness, but the fact of the matter is simple. I'm in love with Fred.

Since I can no longer sit in the common room without the memory of Fred and that seventh year slut, I find sanctuary in the abandoned classroom. Here I can cry until there are no more tears left to fall.

Don't get me wrong. I have not been reduced to a sobbing, miserable mess. On the outside I appear to be chipper and refreshed. I have even taken to dating again, or that is what I have lead people to believe.

I have slept with a total of 12 men in the past three weeks. Every night I take a new lover into my arms in the hopes that they can make me forget Fred. They leave their bruises on me and I leave marks where my nails have embedded into their skin.

None of them can make me moan the way he did.

I went to Madam Pomfrey to seek help. I told her my problems dealing with Fred while she lent a sympathetic ear. I spoke with her about everything, from the betrayal of my friends to my inability to concentrate on anything that does not remind me of him. After I was finished, Madam Pomfrey sent me away with a bar of chocolate.

There is no potion to cure a broken heart.

So, here I sit in this empty classroom once again. "_Nothing compares to you…_" the voice on the radio sings again.

I have not left this room in seven days. I know that people are searching the castle for me, fearing that I might have done the unimaginable. They have nothing to worry about. I'm too much of a coward to kill myself.

A bottle of ink and a bit of parchment sit on the table in front of me.

_Dear Fred, _

That's all I have written so far. Seven damn days and I have yet to find the words to convey how I feel. I have vowed not to leave this room until I have sent off the letter.

Now it seems I never will.

Hey! Thanks for reading the story! I wrote this in a bout of boredom instead of studying for Psychology. Please review and let me know what you think. I haven't written anything Harry Potter in a while, so I would really appreciate some feedback.


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